Your erotic stories

My parents started teaching my brothers and me at a very young age the importance of helping others, though they stressed that helping wasn't necessarily limited to the less fortunate or the poor or the needy. Basically what they taught was that if someone was lacking an ability or resource that you possessed, the right thing to do was to offer it to them. We were also taught to do this out of the goodness of our hearts rather than for personal gain, but we learned that the people we were helping usually did not want to be considered charity cases, so they'd often overcompensate by paying us extremely well for our help.

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I spent most nights of my senior year in high school babysitting. It was my parent's fault, really. Apparently having a real job would affect my grades too much, so I was stuck earning my money by spending my nights in various houses, feeding Kraft Dinner and hot dogs to hyper-active kids while their parents took a night off.

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This move was a big step for me. After being married for thirty years I finally had my kids raised and was left without a life, neither; personal, professional nor sexual as we'd been living apart in the same house for two years. I finally made the decision to leave and make my own way again. Needless to say, much was my own fault as I tolerated the neglect and did so from personal fears and the loathing to be on my own with two kids, but none the less, as I approached my thirty year anniversary I kept asking myself, "Do you want another thirty years like this?" and the answer came back every time as "fuck no!".

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"Jessica... so good to see you again." Harry took her hand and helped her out of the car, leaning down to press a warm kiss to her cheek. He inhaled her sweet fragrance, lilies of the valley. His wife had planted them all around the foundation of their house when they married. Elise was gone but the flowers continued to bloom every year, just when it was time to start opening the windows.

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"I'm worried about my boys, Marge," Gina Smith confessed to her best friend after church one day. "Why?" Marge replied. "You're a great mother, and your boys seem happy and they do ok in school, right?" "I know... maybe I'm over thinking, but I feel like they need more of a male influence in their lives. Clancy never was around that much right after the divorce, and he rarely calls now than he and Kimmy have moved to California," Gina said, practically spitting out the name of her ex-husband's new, younger wife.

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CHAPTER 1 Half an hour before dawn the unmelodic noise of raucous Kookaburras awoke Greta and she used a corner of a sheet to dab the light patches of perspiration between her breasts and under her chin before she dropped back to sleep in the cloying warmth of subtropical paradise. Paradise?

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"Oh god yes... fuck me with your fingers. Harder..." My two fingers dug into Sandra's juicy cunt each time I slammed them up her slimy hole. I was pressed against her back with one hand down the front of her shorts fingering her pussy and the other under her top squeezing her tits and pinching her nipples. I could feel her body tremble and knew that she was quickly losing control.

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The Divorce So its over, 5 years of marriage, just like that a first class letter from my solicitor and at 32 years old I am free. I had known Tom since I was 15 years old and he had been my only boyfriend and lover. Its not like we had, had a big bust up or anything, we'd just grown apart until one day we both agreed that we had separate interests and we went our separate way.

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"Oh, my God! I'm so sorry." His voice was a soft rush as he apologized for letting the door of the shop close on her, banging her hand in it. He grabbed her hand in his and held it firmly. "I didn't realize you were behind me. I'm so oblivious." He rubbed her hand between his, as he would his own if he'd hurt it. She felt a little jolt of electricity race up her arm and looked up into his bright blue eyes. Another jolt raced down her body. She was sure they had never met before but he seemed strangely familiar.

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"Thin" isn't a word anyone has ever used to describe me. "Beautiful" isn't either. But "sexy"? Well, that's another story. It's funny how long it takes us to come to a realization of who we really are. For me, it took just over 40 years. My whole life I'd struggled with the weight of my own expectations—always wanting to be fifteen or twenty pounds lighter, to have better cheekbones, to have my hair be a better color or my complexion a little better.

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